


Shattered

by LostInWonder



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:10:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/pseuds/LostInWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the kinkmeme</p>
<p>Daryl gets ambushed on a hunt,  Rick tracks him down and is forced to witness something horrible...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt:  
> There are other camps of survivors that don't have much gender diversity (possibly rough and tumble groups that left women, children and elderly to fend for themselves, but now regret the absence of the women) -- which leads to them taking it where they can get it and an attractive men are just as good if not better (tighter)than women.
> 
> Daryl encounters one of these groups. He is outnumbered and outgunned but not entirely worried at first (maybe doesn't fight as hard as he'd wish he had later b/c escaping may seem easier than resisting capture) because his group isn't drenched in testosterone and full of horny men who haven't seen a woman in over a year and haven't become slaves to their libidos: he is blind to the idea that they may want to do more to him than use him as a hostage until it's blatantly obvious... by then it is too late.
> 
> Rick (or other male character) is either out hunting/searching with Daryl or nearby and sees the abduction but is outnumbered and knows assisting would just lead to them both being captured. He can't risk going for backup and losing track of where they take Daryl, so he stealthily follows and has to wait for an opening to save Daryl... unfortunately the best time for attack will be when they ALL have their pants around their ankles and are focused on fucking his friend.

He and Daryl were hunting. It was something neither of them did alone anymore, it was just too risky and besides Rick had become good enough that he didn't slow Daryl down anymore. He had become quite the tracker himself over the past year. They'd split up to cover more ground, agreeing to meet back at the ATV they'd left near the side of the road. 

Rick had been tracking a buck for some time, and the tracks wound up leading him into Daryl's area. He found blood spatter and a change in the deer's tracks, indicating it might have stumbled before bolting. The bright red blood he found probably indicated a vital shot, and the pattern and amount of blood left probably meant the bolt had gone straight through so it would be bleeding from both sides. That meant he wouldn't have all that far to track it before it died. 

He knew Daryl was kicking himself right now for not having gotten it in the lung, where it would have bled out and died quicker and easier than anywhere else. But since apparently Daryl had stolen his kill, he may as well follow the trail and meet up with him on the way. At least he could help him drag it back. He was already feeling elation that they would be going back with fresh meat. It was getting harder and harder to come by.

He moved along carefully, recognizing Daryl's footprints as well, grateful at how much he'd actually learned from him about the art of tracking.

After maybe fifteen minutes, Rick suddenly heard a burst of other human voices up ahead, rough and male. He stopped instinctively to listen.

He heard Daryl's voice then , clear as day. "Ain't with nobody, man. I told you, just trackin' a deer. You want some, you're welcome to it."

Rick knew right away something was wrong. Daryl must have felt they were a threat to the group to have said he was alone and to have made an offer like that so quickly, after they'd been out stalking the woods the entire day. 

The men sounded agreeable though, started offering to help butcher it, if Daryl would just lead the way. Rick grew concerned as he realized he'd picked up about five different voices, none of them female, and all of them sounding a lot more like Daryl's brother in accent and demeanor than he was comfortable with. These men were probably armed and potentially dangerous. 

He moved forward carefully, staying low and trying to keep covered. He finally got a visual on them through a break in the trees. Five men, late twenties to maybe forties, all with AR15s held at the ready as they walked. Shit. They weren't hunting deer out here with those numbers and those rifles.

He heard one of them call out loud, "Hey. Don't go so far ahead. We ain't lettin' you disappear into them woods on us. " He knew he'd been talking to Daryl since he didn't see Daryl with them, and his chest constricted suddenly at the threat in that voice. Then he noticed one of them had Daryl's rifle slung over his shoulder, an M1 Carbine that he'd scavenged recently for when he needed to shoot something at a longer range than his crossbow could manage. 

He fell back, but continued to follow. Luckily they were loudmouths and their voices provided him with direction without him having to stay as close. He cursed himself for allowing this hunting trip before they'd restocked on ammo back at the prison. He only had half a magazine left, ten bullets. Daryl had three times as many rounds in his rifle but it wouldn't be of any use now. 

He heard Daryl's voice among them then, attempting to conversate with these men as if it were normal as anything to have a group of armed men, holding onto his weapon, making him lead them to the kill he'd spent all day working for. He was telling them about the deer, that it was a six-point buck, how it wouldn't be much further. How he didn't need that much meat for himself, that they could have the rest to take back to their people. That he wouldn't want their women and children to go hungry.

Rick was proud at that little piece of soft interrogation, Daryl needed to find out more about their camp without looking too obvious. He was glad he was staying calm and level headed. The Daryl he had met way back at the quarry camp might have already gotten himself shot. 

But the men laughed at the statement. "We ain't had a good piece of ass in months, " one of them said.

"Yeah, but we're hopin' to fix that real soon," another one added, also with a laugh, one that sent a responding ripple of laughter through the rest of them, and sent a chill through Rick.

He didn't hear Daryl respond, and didn't know if he had picked up on the same ominous vibe. He knew Daryl had been in lock-ups before but he'd never done the kind of time that would've put him in those kinds of situations. He started planning an attack, trying to figure the best way to take these bastards out with the least risk to Daryl. He was already ready to put them down for the fear they were causing him right now.

He presumed Daryl still had his crossbow but that wouldn't be that helpful if things got hairy. He couldn't get close enough undetected to start picking them off. The last thing he wanted to do was engage in a firefight in the woods with ten rounds left and Daryl potentially caught in the crossfire. There just wasn't enough cover.

He felt powerless with Daryl in their hands. It brought him back to when he'd been taken by the Governor's men and he'd had to come to terms with the fact that losing Daryl wouldn't quite be the same as when he'd lost T or when Carol had gone missing and he'd thought her dead, or even when he'd had to lose Shane. It felt closer to the empty ache of losing Lori than he was willing to admit.

He trailed them for nearly twenty minutes, having to fall back to avoid detection more than once. At one point he heard one of them telling Daryl they could use a man with his skills around and heard Daryl come back with "Maybe if y'all gave me back that rifle I'd consider it." 

"If you hadn't pointed it at my boy here you'd still have it," the man answered. 

"He raised on me first," Daryl answered, his tone growing more defiant and making Rick nervous.

"Hey, we can worry about that later," the same man replied, his voice slightly placating.

For some reason, that worried Rick more.

Daryl got them to the deer. Rick was hoping that the men helping to either field dress the buck or try to drag it off to their own camp would provide the necessary diversion he'd need to extract Daryl. If they all became occupied he could hopefully use his remaining rounds to pick them off quickly. In the past he might have hesitated before ending the lives of five human beings, but he trusted his gut now more than ever. The fear in the pit of his stomach told him they had to die.

But apparently these men were too impatient to sate their other needs to worry about taking care of Daryl's kill right away.

"Damn, that _is_ a nice buck, boy," he heard the man he took to be the leader now say. " But now that we got it how's about you doin' us a different sort of favor?"

Rick froze where he was hidden. He hoped to God he had heard wrong, or at least misjudged the intent. But no.

He heard scuffling and cursing and some grunts of pain that sounded like Daryl, and then "Get his hands, get his hands."

Rick started moving forward rapidly and without thinking, heart pounding in his chest. He took cover behind some bushes before they spotted him. He needed to see what was going on.

He'd heard another one laugh and say "Man, he doesn't look like he's gonna like it much." Heard Daryl calling them faggots, threatening to kill them all, keeping up a steady, frantic stream of insults and demands to be let go while they laughed and started to mock him. Rick heard the helpless panic in his voice and had to fight not to panic himself. He'd never heard Daryl sound like that, couldn't even have imagined it.

He moved up again, this time ducking behind a tree just as he finally got a clear view of them and saw one turning his head in his direction. He stayed perfectly still, waiting to see if he'd been spotted. But he heard the leader telling one of them to watch for biters. 

"He ain't stayin' still enough, " he heard the leader say then. "Why don't you give him some encouragement?" 

Rick peered around the tree carefully. There were too many trees in the way, he couldn't line up a straight shot on any of them yet. One man had walked a little away from them to keep watch, but if he shot him first, he'd have four heavily armed men on his trail. And Daryl would either be a hostage in a deadly standoff, or just a helpless victim, since they'd already restrained him.

The four men surrounding Daryl had him on his knees now, his arms behind his back. One of them had his rifle pressed against Daryl's temple. One slight twitch would end his life. He couldn't hear what they were saying now but one of them was behind him, holding him roughly by the back of his head while the leader got in front of him, covering him from Rick's view, and not very long after he saw the man's hips thrusting forward jerkily. 

Dammit, he should have done something. Anything. He hadn't expected it to go this wrong this fast. 

"He sucks it like a pro, don't he, after all that bitchin' ?" the man with the rifle at his head said. 

Rick felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to rush them and stop this, end what Daryl was being forced to do, but he realized just as quickly that he couldn't. They'd both be dead. And there'd be no one to let Carl know why his father had disappeared. 

He crept forward again, trying to slip to a better vantage point. He needed a place where he'd have the cleanest of shots, and an opportunity to headshot at least two of them before they knew what hit them. The man standing guard froze all of a sudden, tilted his head like he was listening and Rick stopped and crouched down behind a felled tree, trying to stay completely still.

Meanwhile, he heard a yelp of pain from Daryl that nearly cost him his hiding spot as that sound sent a physical jolt of terror through his body. He peered through the tree cover and saw that the man who'd been forcing himself into Daryl's mouth now had him bent over and was pounding into him forcefully while one of the others held him still, so that he was trapped between them, unable to give any resistance at all. Rick wished he could close his ears from the guttural noises forced from Daryl's throat, he knew he had to be in severe pain to have given these men that satisfaction.

And all the while, that one man kept his rifle readied on Daryl, poking him in the side of the head with it repeatedly. He wondered if that was part of what was getting him off. It wasn't like Daryl had any chance at all of breaking free at this point. But the fact that all it would take is one twitchy finger to end Daryl's life kept Rick near-paralyzed.

He saw the man reach his climax, his sharp jerking motions shoving Daryl forward with every thrust. 

His mind was going blank, he couldn't think about what was happening, how this would change everything, how there would be no going back. It was too much. Survive this and put everything back together later. He started working on figuring out the right place to start the attack, to make the most of his few bullets. Above all, he had to wait for the man with the rifle at Daryl's head to ease off. 

The first man, the leader, pulled out but the other man who'd been holding him kept Daryl where he was. 

"Alright, who's goin' next? Got him all lubed up for you fellas ," the man crowed, putting his dick away. 

The man who'd been keeping Daryl restrained pushed him back until Daryl was kneeling upright again. "Took so long I'm gonna need his mouth to get me ready again," he scoffed at the first man, who laughed in response, grabbing hold of Daryl's hair and holding him in place. And all the while, that one sick bastard kept his rifle aimed right at Daryl's head, his finger on the trigger. 

Rick heard Daryl growl a useless threat at the man, promising to bite off his dick. He silently willed him to stop, stay rational, to just let it happen, it had already happened once already. If they kill you now I won't ever have a chance to make this right.

"I break all your teeth out first I don't gotta worry about that, do I ?" the man snarled back at him and Rick readied himself for the possibility of a suicidal rush if this man tried to make good on the threat. The regret over his own hesitation was already making him feel reckless.

Crazy rifle-man struck Daryl in the back of the head with the barrel, not hard enough to knock him out but enough to hurt and make a point. Rick hated that he felt relief when the other man grabbed Daryl by the hair and forced his way into his mouth and the situation remained manageable. But this scumbag thought it was funnier to jerk off in his face after he wasn't performing well enough with his mouth. 

He knew as long as he lived he would never be able to get that image out of his mind, Daryl's eyes closed tight, his whole body cringing away from the disgusting liquid assault as the man holding him from behind grabbed him by the back of the hair and forced his head up. And worse was their taunting laughter, further stripping Daryl of his pride.

Rick tensed when Crazy rifle-man went next. This was what he'd been waiting for, for this one to finally drop his weapon. The animal practically tripped over his own feet to get his turn and told the other man to let go of Daryl, he wanted him to himself. "He ain't got much fight in him left anyway, " he said offhandedly. He lined himself up against Daryl's ass and grabbed his hips roughly. 

Rick tasted bile in his throat when he saw Daryl's body jerk at the contact, heard another muffled cry of pain escape his lips as the man forced his way inside. Daryl pitched forward without his arms for support, his head hitting the ground. But he was out of the line of fire now. 

It killed him that Daryl would have to know that he witnessed this. He could already feel the endless distance this would put between them if they made it back alive but he had to act while he had a chance. If he didn't he might be too late. In all probability, they'd kill him when they were done, rather than try to keep a grown man captive after something like this. 

He steeled his nerve, blotting out the thoughts of all the ways this could go wrong, and leveled his weapon on the man who was brutally thrusting into Daryl. He got the man's temple in his sights and pulled the trigger. Without waiting to see if he'd fallen, he shifted his sights onto the guard and put a bullet in his head as well. He knew he had about eight shots left. He rushed out of the tree cover towards the three remaining men, heedless of his own safety. 

The part of his brain that knew any one of them could kill him had switched off. His mind was only on eliminating the threat, as quickly as he could. They were close enough together that Rick fired into them rapidly, without any time to take aim. The last rounds were expended into their bodies as they began to shoot back wildly. 

Two fell, and the third he ran up on and smashed in the face with the butt of his rifle, sending him toppling over one of the others. They weren't dead, just groaning in pain on the ground. He kicked their rifles out of their reach, and pulled out his knife. 

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Daryl struggling to get out from under the man who had died on top of him. 

He had to look away. He looked instead at the men bleeding out at his feet. One of them had fucked Daryl, another had come in his face. The third had watched and laughed, and hoped for a turn. The only living witnesses to this horrible event other then himself and Daryl. Without hesitation he went from one wounded man to the other and knifed them viciously through the head, even as two of them had begun to beg pitifully for their lives.

And then all was quiet. And Rick was realizing he would have to summon a lot more strength to take care of Daryl than he had needed to put down these degenerates.

He had to will himself to turn around and face Daryl like this. He knew he had to show no disgust, no hint of the turmoil he was going through himself right now. 

Daryl was on his side, working frantically to get his wrists free. Rick realized how humiliating it would be to have another man pull up his jeans and clean him up so instead he rushed to get behind him and slice through the rope binding his wrists. He stayed where he was , out of Daryl's sight so he could cover up quickly, yank a rag from his pocket and wipe his face. He threw the rag to the side immediately after, as sharply as if it were on fire. 

He got to his feet, his back still to Rick. Rick could see him breathing in deep, ragged breaths. Then suddenly Daryl turned and was attacking him, his fists swinging wildly. He caught Rick in the gut and then the jaw and knocked him down. Before Rick could recover, Daryl was on top of him, his hands wrapping around his throat. 

"Where were you ? Huh? Where were you?" Daryl was yelling, his voice cracking with emotion as he pushed down on Rick's throat. 

Rick's mind went back into survival mode in the face of Daryl's irrational attack. He felt a calm settle over him as he realized Daryl wasn't really choking him out. His hands were around his neck, shaking him slightly, but it seemed more like helpless frustration than anything else. Breathing was a struggle but not impossible. So instead of fighting back, he grasped Daryl's wrists with gentle pressure and locked his eyes on his. "I'm sorry. Daryl, I'm sorry," he started whispering with the little bit of air he was allowed.

Daryl's face crumpled at that. He choked back what was almost a sob and released Rick abruptly, rolling off him and jumping to his feet. He started pacing restlessly, looking for something else to vent on. He nearly tripped over the corpse of his last attacker and lost all control. He kicked the body repeatedly until Rick heard the ribs crack, then moved on to stomping the head until it caved in like a watermelon. 

Rick stood up and watched him, not wanting to interfere. Let him get rid of the adrenaline, regain his composure, he was thinking. Meanwhile, all he could think of was Daryl's accusation playing over and over in his mind, "where were you?" 

Daryl had to know there was no way he could have stopped this, that he was lucky enough that Rick had found him at all. It felt more like he had suddenly been standing in for all the other people in his life that had failed to protect him when he couldn't protect himself, that in this traumatized state Daryl hadn't even seen Rick but his old man, or Merle.

Finally Daryl was done, standing over the ruined body, slowly catching his breath. He picked up his crossbow and started walking off into the woods. Then he stopped. Rick came up next to him, waiting for him to speak or make some move. All of the training, all of the victims he'd dealt with as a police officer, and he was still at a complete loss for what he could possibly say or do right now.

"Shouldn't leave all that meat to waste," Daryl muttered, so low Rick could hardly hear him. Rick had honestly forgotten all about the deer. But Daryl was right. A whole community of people, including his own children, were still counting on them for sustenance.

He nodded at Daryl, deciding he would just follow his lead. "Alright."

Daryl went back to the scene without hesitating, stepping around the three corpses clustered together without even going for any further head stomping. He was down on his knees by the deer carcass, quickly and expertly gutting it and readying it for transport, as though it were any other hunt they'd shared. 

Rick was right there to help him wrap it in the plastic sheeting Daryl had in his knapsack, protecting it from flies and debris for the drag-back. Their arms bumped briefly and it made Daryl twitch instinctively. Rick saw a look of revulsion cross Daryl's face for a second before he replaced it again with the cool mask he always wore. 

Rick took the rolled up deer sled out of Daryl's pack and unfurled it. They got the deer on it and Rick automatically went to grab the handle to start pulling. It wasn't really a two man job and he wanted to spare Daryl the effort right now. 

But Daryl moved forward, snatching it out of Rick's hand with irritation. "I got it," he muttered gruffly. "Get the ammo." He took off at a rapid pace, the deer sliding along the ground behind him. 

Rick realized right away what he'd done wrong and felt awful. Daryl would never want sympathy or to be coddled. His small attempt to lessen the load for him had made him feel even weaker.

He snatched the magazines from all the ARs, retrieved Daryl's rifle, which he had apparently forgotten, and hurried after him, needing almost as much as Daryl to get far away from this place. 

As they made their way towards the ATV they were silent. 

Daryl kept his eyes ahead, his face expressionless. The quiet forced Rick's mind into places he didn't want it to go. Like how he was suddenly aware of how much he had wanted to have Daryl in any of those positions those animals put him in. 

His mind had wandered over those possibilities with Daryl off and on for the past year or so, mostly while jerking off. At first he had batted the thoughts from his mind in disgust at himself for violating a man he'd come to see as his closest friend, even if it was only in his head. But then he'd begun to accept that those thoughts were fine, no one could see them. Daryl wouldn't know. And once he had given himself permission for that, he had started thinking about what could happen if he ever found that those feelings were mutual. 

There were times when they were close to eachother that he thought he'd felt that tension from Daryl as well. And there were other times when their eyes caught eachother's that something _else_ seemed to be there lurking just below the surface before Daryl's eyes inevitably darted away.

Seeing Daryl like this, he knew that chance was gone. There would never be a time he could have Daryl on his knees without picturing what those men had done to him. How he looked afterwards. No way he could feel himself slipping inside him without wondering if it was bringing Daryl's mind back to this place. No way he could imagine it ever being playful or light-hearted or even...romantic... when they'd both seen it be so terrible. And he wasn't prepared for how much that actually hurt. Even though Daryl was walking right next to him, he felt as though he'd lost him.

It took over an hour to get back to the ATV with the carcass. Daryl was struggling with fatigue and slowed several times, but each time he'd noticed Rick hovering closer, he'd push on determinedly, preempting any chance for Rick to assist. He hadn't said another word other then what was necessary to navigate them back correctly. Hadn't even looked at Rick once. The silence was disturbing Rick to no end. 

He wanted to find some way to reassure him, that it didn't make him less of a man. That it wouldn't make anyone want him less (least of all him, Rick thought. It just made it all that more painful). But he knew there was no way to convey that to him yet. And with Daryl, it certainly couldn't be conveyed in words. 

They got the deer into the ATV and started up the road, heading home. Daryl had jumped in the driver's seat just as easily as when they rode out early this morning. The whole way back was just as quiet, Daryl's eyes fixed on nothing but the road ahead.

Finally, when they were nearly back at the prison, Daryl stopped the vehicle.

Rick waited while Daryl seemed to be gathering his thoughts. 

"What I said back there..." he mumbled quietly. "...it ain't your fault."

Rick was so relieved to hear him speak he started to respond immediately. "Daryl, I know you didn't mean-"

" _Shut up_ , " Daryl broke in, and Rick instantly stopped. "Don't gotta talk about it. Don't ever gotta say another thing. _Nothing happened_...alright ? " He was looking at the steering wheel, hadn't turned to look back at him the whole time, but at that last question he did, and the pleading in his eyes made Rick's chest ache.

Rick knew how unhealthy that was. To deny something as traumatic as a rape, bury it deep so that whatever residual damage there was wound up seeping into the rest of you instead of being cut out and dealt with at the source. 

But he wasn't a shrink. He had become a practical man, and what Daryl was asking now he wanted too, more than anything. To forget it, so that they could go back to what they were before, with all the same closeness, with all the same trust, with all the same...potential.

"Nothing happened, " he repeated softly, allowing himself to give Daryl the smallest hint of a reassuring smile without it coming off patronizing. 

And he found himself hoping that some of the profound relief he saw in Daryl's briefly returned gaze was there for the same reasons.


	2. Chapter 2

They drove through the fences in silence. A little knot of people, Carl, Carol, and a couple of other faces Daryl recognized but didn't care to really know yet waited to greet them like conquering heroes, seeing the deer carcass piled behind them on the ATV. His stomach lurched at the thought of having to speak to them, Carol most of all because she had a way of _seeing_ things even when he thought he was hiding them.

So when they pulled in, Daryl turned off the ignition and jumped out fast.

Carol's look instantly turned concerned and questioning and he remembered his face was beaten up a bit, his lips a little bruised. And Rick was sporting a bruise on his left cheek from his misplaced anger.

"Gotta take a piss, " he muttered gruffly, shrugging her welcoming hand off his shoulder before she could say a word.

He rushed to his cell. Too many people might be around the washrooms at this time, he couldn't risk it. He dropped his knapsack and crossbow on the floor and yanked the makeshift curtain across the doorway, giving himself privacy. 

As soon as he did so, he felt a pressure swelling in his chest, his throat tightening painfully, and he knew he was starting to lose the control he had maintained the whole way back. Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision. 

His stomach heaved and he started to throw up, sinking to his knees and grabbing quickly for a large coffee can he used as an occasional ashtray.

He felt like he could still _taste_ those men and it made him retch even worse, until he wasn't bringing up anything but his gut was still spasming painfully. At least it had stopped him from crying. He rolled onto his side, curling in on himself, willing the nausea to pass. It was too noisy to keep heaving like that, someone could hear.

He hadn't felt this weak since he was a kid, trying to recover quietly from one of his old man's beatings. The same pride forcing himself to stay quiet, don't cry, don't think about it. But this time it was different.

The sense of loss that hit him as he laid there overwhelmed him. Rick _saw_. He heard. How much ? Had he seen the first man force his dick into his mouth ? Or the one that came all over his face and laughed as he tried to avoid it ? He knew he had to have seen the man he killed first since he was pounding into him when he took the shot.

Rick saved him. But it didn't feel that way. Laying on the cool concrete, his mind started reeling. If Rick hadn't come across them, they might've finished their business and moved on. He could've hid this, he _knew_ he could've. Or maybe they would've shot him in the end. _It might have been better that way_ , he thought.

For the first time in his adult life he actually let that idea sit there unchallenged.

How was he supposed to go out there and face Rick day after day when he might have heard those pitiful noises escape him when he felt like he was being torn open ? He was thankful that at least he hadn't begged.

An unfocused rage started to build in him. He fought the impulse to drive a fist into the solid floor beneath him. That brought him around. He couldn't afford to hurt himself worse. Being useful around here was all he had left.

He forced himself up and stripped off his clothing. Threw them far under the bottom bunk, out of sight. He'd fucking burn them at some point. He grabbed for a bottle of whiskey he had stashed under the bed. He hadn't touched it since the night he'd come back after finding Merle turned. Hadn't needed to. His only thought now was to get clean.

He took a huge gulp of liquor, letting it burn the foulness out of his mouth. It made him gag again but he didn't throw up this time. He grit his teeth and poured a liberal amount of it down the crack of his ass. It burned so bad his eyes flooded with tears but he couldn't get some fucking infection down there. No way could he go to Herschel or Dr. S if anything went wrong.

He wiped up the alcohol that had spilled onto the floor and re-dressed quickly.

He left the cell, steeling himself to try the washroom now, where he could at least scrub off his face and neck. 

He nearly collided with Rick as he was coming towards him on the narrow walkway. He froze as Rick stopped in front of him instead of moving past to head to his own cell.

He hadn't expected to see him again so soon. He averted his eyes, unable to look Rick in the face.

"Didn't forget...gonna go skin that buck now, " he mumbled. He realized he'd taken a lot longer than it took to take a piss and really _had_ completely forgotten about the meat.

"That's not why I was coming up here, " Rick said gently. "Wanted to let you know we got that covered."

Jesus, he was using the same tone he used on Carl when he was worried about him. Was that how pathetic he was to him now ? But he really didn't want to go back out there and deal with anyone tonight.

He nodded acknowledgement without looking up and moved past him quickly, not allowing Rick the chance to say anything else.

He'd clean up, go back to his cell, and kill the rest of that whiskey. Past that, he tried not to think of anything at all.

*************************************************************

He and Rick were out in the woods, tracking another buck. He had followed this trail before, he thought oddly. It seemed familiar. Too much blood on the trail, he noted. And it looked dark and old. What the fuck?

He heard a loud rustle of leaves behind him. Damn, Rick, he thought, exasperated. Figured you'd have learned to walk a little more quiet by now. He turned to say something, remind him not to scare away the game, but when he did a different man was two inches in front of him, his grizzled face cracking into a savage grin.

"We ain't done with you yet, boy," he laughed, and suddenly Daryl felt his throat close, his air cut off. The man was on top of him somehow, pinning him on his back, forcing his legs apart. He was too strong, Daryl's struggles were like a child's against him. He was forcing himself inside, and the pain was white-hot and left him gasping for air.

No, no, not again, he thought frantically. Where was Rick ? He'd been right behind him ! The pain where the man had inserted himself was becoming unbearable. He would die this time, he knew it. He tried to use his arms to push again but they wouldn't even move. He heard the hideous laughter of those men, as he started strangling out, his vision dimming until all he was seeing was blackness...

Then he was sitting bolt upright in his dark cell, sucking air into his lungs hungrily, his heart thumping painfully in his chest, cold , clammy sweat coating his body.

The face of the first man that had fucked him was still in his mind's eye, clear as if he was right there in front of him.

The prison was still quiet. It must still be nighttime.

"You ok in there ?" someone said through the curtain. A male voice, one he didn't recognize. Fuck, what the hell noise had he been making ? He didn't answer the man.

"Do you need Dr. S ? He's up already," the voice offered, sounding a little more concerned with the lack of response.

"How 'bout you mind your own business ? M'tryin' to go back to sleep," Daryl snapped at the unknown party, hoping the rudeness would drive him off. It did, thankfully.

He reached next to him for the bottle of whiskey he'd gone to bed with. He swore, finding it empty. He wasn't even drunk anymore and he knew he couldn't go back to sleep without more help.

His mind started tracing the steps he had taken up to the assault. He saw all the openings he had had, to attack, to run. Would that man really have blown his head off if he'd bit off his dick the way he had contemplated ? Or would they have been so shocked he could have gained some advantage ?

He tried to re-direct his thoughts, but they went somewhere worse instead. Yesterday morning. Before they left.

He'd lain on his back in this very bunk and jerked off, and he'd been thinking of Rick.

Rick, bending him over and fucking him. He had heard somewhere that there was a male g-spot in there, that it felt really good if you got used to it. He couldn't bring himself to try and check it out with his fingers but in his mind Rick had hit it, and it had felt so good he could almost imagine Rick inside him as he came hard over his own fingers.

He'd done something even filthier then, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean, imagining it was Rick's seed, knowing it would probably taste the same. He pictured Rick beside him, watching. The memory of it now made him cringe with shame.

And it wasn't even the first time he'd thought of him. Usually he tried not to, it always felt _wrong_. But yesterday he couldn't help it. He knew they'd be out alone together much of the day and he didn't want to worry about getting wood and trying to hide it.

Of course he had already known that there was no way Rick would ever feel that way about him. The few times he'd thought Rick had looked at him sort of funny was just his own wishful thinking, so he could feel less creepy for thinking about him the way he did. He'd been married, had kids, he wasn't some faggot.

Then again, Daryl had never even thought of himself that way until slowly, after everything from his old life had gone, he'd started realizing his feelings for Rick weren't what you were supposed to feel for another man. But now...

All their time together, hunting, fighting , surviving, all the time it had taken to earn Rick's respect, his friendship, and now it might as well never have happened. However it was that Rick had happened on that scene, Daryl knew for sure he'd seen him being fucked and after that how could he help but be disgusted by him ?

He felt a painful lump form in his throat again, feeling an empty ache almost as strong as when he'd found Merle turned. So close and he'd lost him anyway.

Fuck this, he thought, furious at his weakness. Wasn't like he and Rick were ever riding off into the sunset together. _You've lost worse,_ he told himself. _Get up and be fucking useful if you ain't gonna sleep._

There were always enough walkers piling up around the fences lately. He could vent some energy stabbing them through the chain links. Make it easier on the morning crew.

He hauled himself off the floor, grabbed his knife and headed out to work.

*************************************************************

To see it from the outside, Rick could hardly notice any changes in Daryl. He was still available whenever he was needed, to fix the fences, to go on runs, offer advice on securing the place. To answer Carl's questions about hunting or tracking, or fixing cars. They even hunted together again after a couple of weeks, though it was unspoken that they would avoid passing that particular place.

Daryl didn't suggest they split up again, and Rick was more than fine with that, though he felt sick when he thought of how the one refuge Daryl had had throughout his life now held a memory of pain even worse than anything he'd suffered before.

Even so, sharing a familiar activity, even one that had ended so awfully once, was something Rick was glad to continue. He was happy for any chance to spend time with Daryl when they could be occupied with the same task, something to keep them close but busy enough that there wouldn't be a chance for any uneasiness to creep in.

If he hadn't gotten used to Daryl talking and joking with him more over the last few months, gotten used to him making eye contact more readily, and occasionally making friendly physical contact like Shane might have in the past, he might not have noticed its absence. Now he could feel Daryl's apprehension whenever they were alone together without a buffer of some other activity to keep their attention off eachother, and it hurt.

He had gone over the horrific assault and what he'd done to the the men afterwards in his mind over and over again. The rage and fear that had built up as he'd tracked them was so strong he couldn't help but think it was something akin to how he would have felt if Lori had been in that situation. Or Carl.

He had driven his knife into the skulls of men who were begging for their lives and had felt elation at their deaths. That was something new to him. He really hadn't known just how much Daryl meant to him until then.

He visited the prison library when no one else was there, and looked for information he could use to help Daryl get past the trauma, but there wasn't really any information on how to do that while also pretending it hadn't happened.

And he really tried to stop thinking about Daryl sexually but he found he just couldn't.

What those men did to Daryl, he couldn't wipe from his mind. But the fantasies he'd entertained were still there.

Some mornings he thought of waking up to find Daryl next to him, looking up at him with eyes full of desire as he slid down the length of his body before settling his head between his legs and taking Rick into his mouth.

Or of surprising Daryl in one of the empty cell blocks, coming up behind him and wrapping his hand around his member, finding the other man just as hard and ready as he was himself, urging Rick to fuck him in that rough, quiet voice of his.

At first he resisted the urge to jerk off but his arousal won out. After all, the Daryl in his mind hadn't been horribly violated.

Those thoughts gave him some relief and comfort in the quiet of the early morning, even though knew it would never happen.

And just because it couldn't happen didn't stop the heat he still felt when Daryl was near him. It didn't stop the irrational pangs of jealousy he felt when he saw Carol able to coax a little smile out of him, or accept a touch on his back or shoulder without him going rigid.

He was very aware of how hesitant Daryl was to touch him now, in any way. He wouldn't clap a hand on his shoulder or clasp his hand briefly in the normal welcome-back gesture they sometimes shared after brief separations.

He was also aware of the times he caught Daryl staring vacantly when other activity was going on all around him, or when he'd noticed that he had more than a couple of bottles of whiskey stashed under his bunk.

He never saw him drinking with any of the other guys, but a few mornings he smelled alcohol on him and realized it was probably the only way for him to get to sleep sometimes. He wished on those nights he could just sit with him, put a hand on his shoulder, just let him know he was paying attention, that he knew he was struggling.

But every time he felt that urge, he had to check it. To acknowledge that pain, that shared suffering , was to acknowledge that _something_ had happened. And he knew Daryl didn't want that.

In truth, he didn't want that either. He didn't want to talk about what happened. He didn't want Daryl to know what he'd seen, or how long he'd been behind them without acting. He would take all that guilt and doubt to his grave before he let it further hurt the man.

And if he was being honest, he didn't just want to share a drink in sympathy, or a consoling pat on the back. He wanted something more, something he didn't even know how to explain to himself.

It wasn't just sexual, although there were times when they were alone together checking the perimeters, doing repairs here and there, or sharing a table in the common eating area, when Rick would start to feel arousal just from the close proximity and the sound of his low, rumbling drawl.

Or the way Daryl still looked at him sometimes when their eyes met inadvertently, like he was trying to tell him something that he would never be able to put into words, even before.

He wanted him _close_ , the way he hadn't wanted anyone since Lori. Wanted to know he wasn't going anywhere, that he wasn't getting involved with anyone else.

Even before, he'd struggled with his jealousy whenever he entertained the idea that Daryl might be interested in someone.

Carol had made her desire for him so obvious that it seemed like Daryl was the only one left who _wasn't_ aware of it. It was also pretty plain that a lot of the new women they'd taken in wouldn't turn him down if he made the slightest overture. And Michonne had developed a playfully mocking way with him that he found endearing to watch, even though it got under his skin when he thought he saw Daryl responding in a more-than- platonic way.

But his jealousy had been proven unfounded every time, and every time he felt that relief, that Daryl was still _his_ even though he really wasn't.

One day they went into the woods together and things almost felt back to normal. They brought home nothing more than a dozen squirrels but they'd enjoyed eachother's company, even with the minimal conversation Daryl tolerated when hunting. Daryl was starting to relax around him again. It almost felt as if that awful day had never happened.

But then they'd come back, and wound up having to do some repairs on the fences. It was still hot late in the afternoon, hot enough that Rick took his shirt off to relieve the discomfort as they worked.

Daryl had on his usual sleeveless t-shirt. He never took his shirt off around other people. Rick couldn't even fill up a hand with the number of times he'd seen Daryl shirtless and none of those times had been intentional.

They were trying to raise one of the supports to brace a part of the fence and the log wound up getting away from them unexpectedly and toppling over, the inertia knocking Rick off balance. He had stumbled and fallen back against Daryl and somehow they'd both wound up on the ground. Rick had almost been sitting on Daryl's lap the way they landed, and in the couple of seconds they took to recover from the abrupt drop, Rick felt Daryl's erection pressing into his hip.

Their eyes met briefly as they stood themselves up and Rick realized Daryl knew that he'd felt it. He didn't know what sort of expression he must have had. None could have conveyed to Daryl how that made him feel. Relieved, that his body at least might be getting back to normal, if he could feel arousal. Hopeful, that somehow he had been the cause.

Whatever Daryl thought he saw made him look away immediately, his face flushing. They secured the support and then Daryl mumbled something about having something to fix on his bike and rushed off.

Rick knew there was no way to address it, but the idea that maybe he'd been right about how Daryl might feel about him gave him the first bit of hope since they'd come home that day.

\-----------------------------------------------------------  
For days afterward, Daryl avoided Rick altogether. He was so sickened by the thought that Rick might have actually felt his fucking hard-on that he couldn't even face him. The way he'd _looked_ at him, shock and disbelief so plain on his face, and what he figured had to be disgust had cut him like a knife.

Avoiding Rick was easy. He had two kids to take care of and was trying to implement some sort of government at the prison so he wouldn't have to feel like every decision that had to be made was on him. He was busy.

Carol had taken a liking to two motherless little girls so even she wasn't as hard to dodge as he had thought she would be. For some reason it even bothered him a little, but he reasoned it was better this way, since he was pretty sure she was starting to want a little more from him than friendship and he didn't know how to keep brushing off her occasional dirty little jokes and half-kidding offers.

Then he had that dream, not long after the humiliating incident by the fence.

They were back there, fixing the same support, but this time he'd fallen back against Rick and instead of shoving him off, Rick had wound his arms around his waist and pushed his hardness against his ass. In the dream, he was hardly even concerned that they were out in public.

He tried to put up a little protest, but Rick had brought his lips right up against his ear and whispered "It's ok. I've always wanted this," and they were both kneeling then and Rick was entering him right there on the ground by the fence, and it didn't hurt and suddenly he didn't give a fuck who even saw them.

It felt warm and full and made his cock ache to come, and the pressure was gentle, and all the while he felt Rick's body draped over his back as he thrust into him, each stroke bringing him closer to orgasm, but more than anything, this overwhelming feeling of safeness and belonging that he'd never felt before.

He woke up horny as hell for the first time since _before_ , until reality set in again and he realized that apparently even his good dreams were set up to torture him now.

The rest of that day he'd felt the loss of _that_ Rick, the one that held onto him and fucked him so good that it washed out the memory of those men and what they'd done. That night as he tried to sleep he had to force himself not to think about how Rick felt inside him or how real it sounded when he told him he'd always wanted it.

It was too painful. 

A few days later he finally tried hunting alone again, telling no one he was going. He didn't want to let Rick find out, just in case he'd try and get him to take someone with him, or worse, try and come along.

As soon as he entered the woods and put some distance between himself and the prison, he felt a strange sense of dread building in him.

It almost felt like he _knew_ something bad was about to happen. His heart started pounding. He looked around but he was alone. He continued on, but his heart was still beating too fast and he was starting to feel light-headed and dizzy.

It was becoming harder to breathe and suddenly he was leaning against a tree, struggling to draw a breath. He didn't know what was happening but he started to panic as he couldn't get any air into his lungs. He was suffocating.

Was this a heart attack ? Jesus, he was gonna die out here, he thought, and it almost felt like he was starting to pass out. Then he heard a crackle of leaves behind him and whirled to face it, remembering to draw his knife mid-turn.

Two walkers were coming at him. He barely had time to drive his knife through the eye socket of one before he was wrestling with the second. It knocked him to the ground, landing on top of him. He saw nothing but gnashing teeth surging towards his face and then suddenly he heard quick footsteps and saw a glint of metal and watched as Michonne's katana slid through one temple and out the other.

He shoved the corpse upwards and scrambled out from under it, Michonne assisting to drag it off . He sat there recovering. His breathing was hard and heavy, but the air was getting in now.

Whatever had been wrong had passed but it had nearly cost him his life. There was no way two walkers would have been able to almost get the jump on him if he hadn't been fucked up like that.

"What the hell was that ?" Michonne asked with a hand on her hip, her tone displeased.

Daryl got to his feet, not answering. He felt ridiculous, and confused. What the hell was wrong with him ?

"You shouldn't be out here like this," she said, her tone softer. "You look like hell."

He shrugged, trying hard to look indifferent. "Gotta eat." Something about the way she just _happened_ to be there rankled him. "Why're _you_ out here ?" he asked.

"Saw you heading out alone. Thought we weren't supposed to do that ? "

"Ain't stopped _you._ "

"I don't have as many people here who'd miss me," she countered.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. The way she'd gotten close to Carl and Rick, he figured she was first in the running for whoever Rick might pair up with in the future. The thought had already been the cause of more pain than he cared to admit.

"So what are we hunting ? " she asked, sheathing her sword gracefully across her back.

"Nothin'," he muttered. "I'm goin' back. " The close call had knocked the fight out of him.

He wanted nothing more than to head back to the prison, get inside and just lay down. For the first time, the idea of being alone in his cell felt more comforting than being out here hunting.

***************************************************************

Rick was bothered to hear Michonne's account of what had happened when she'd found Daryl. He'd asked her if she could go after him, having a pretty good idea that Daryl was trying to avoid him at all costs lately. Michonne had a rapport with him that really only he, Carol, and Carl had. He'd never expected her to describe what sounded like Daryl having a panic attack.

Hearing about how close he came to being bit made his belly fill with dread. If Daryl wasn't able to handle himself right now he needed to find a way to keep him safe, keep him from running off.

He did his farm chores with Carl, his mood lifting as he saw glimmers of the happy child Carl had been before he'd been forced to make decisions a man three times his age would have struggled with.

It was Carl that had first drawn Rick's attention to the fact that Daryl had been spending way too much time at the fences venting on walkers, that he seemed pissed all the time lately. Especially when he'd reminded him that he promised to take him hunting. Rick had assured him it was nothing personal, that Daryl was just having a hard time adjusting to his role at the prison, among so many strangers. Which was true enough anyway.

He kept an eye on Daryl from a distance all day, watching him fiddle with his bike and help Herschel move supplies to the new section they had designated for medical use.

Late in the afternoon he saw him head over to the fence, where a few walkers had begun to cluster by the main gate. He watched him dismiss a couple of older ladies seeking to hone their killing skills and decided he didn't want to wait any longer.

"You know, I think those ladies need the practice a little more than you do, " he said lightly, coming up alongside him.

Daryl responded by plunging his knife through the eye socket of a former gas station attendant, still wearing the ragged blue coveralls he'd died in.

There were three left, and Rick took his own knife off his belt and dispatched two of them, as Daryl was sliding his out of the temple of a young woman.

He seemed positively annoyed that Rick had just taken away his remaining reasons to avoid confronting him.

He crouched to wipe off his blade in the grass and Rick got right down with him, their heads not two feet apart.

"I want you to join the Council, " he said quietly, ducking his head to try to catch Daryl's eyes with his so he could get him to really listen.

"Why ? Thought y'all already had it covered," Daryl muttered, not looking up, dragging his knife back and forth in the dirt.

Rick and Herschel had already decided on Carol, Glenn, and Sasha as a start. Then they all had considered Daryl but he'd been so distant, what with taking off with Michonne to hunt the Governor for awhile, and then how aloof he'd been lately.

They wondered at the reason and Rick had no choice but to let them keep wondering.

"I'm thinking since I want to step away from calling the shots for awhile, it's a good time for you to try it out," he said. "They're really gonna need your help." He was hoping it would keep Daryl invested, occupy him, give him a sense of purpose. Show him he was respected. That he mattered.

Daryl tilted his head to meet Rick's gaze for a few seconds, his look probing and thoughtful, and a little wary.

Then he shrugged, as if he couldn't give a shit and mumbled "I'll think about it." He stood up and walked away, leaving Rick alone without another word.

***************************************************

Daryl learned that if he stayed busy every waking moment, he could get himself so physically exhausted that he sometimes wouldn't need whiskey to ease the way into sleep.

When Rick had come to him to talk, he'd been uneasy but somehow a little hopeful, not knowing what to expect. Then he had offered him his seat on the Council and for some reason he was torn between feeling honored and being hopelessly bitter.

Daryl thought he'd accepted the idea that Rick would never be anything more than a friend, or at best, a brother.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he must have been holding out some hope that there was something more there. That maybe Rick _had_ felt that _something_ between them when they were too close together. That maybe that ridiculous dream he'd had could actually really happen, or something close to it at least.

Now that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was nothing, a dull ache settled in his chest whenever he thought of Rick. Even as the days passed and he no longer woke from nightmares as often, no longer had to struggle as hard to stop his brain from roaming that little stretch of time over and over again, it didn't get any easier to bear.

One night he found himself wondering what it would have been like if Rick had found his corpse instead, maybe surrounded by the bodies of the others, how that would have been so much easier. 

But as that thought entered his mind, a little spark of anger came back to life, the same one that had always kept him from sinking so low that he'd really give up on everything, even if he'd wanted to.

Maybe he _should've_ died , but he'd be damned if he was gonna give whatever unknown controller of fate out there that had screwed him since he was old enough to walk the satisfaction.

That night when he slept and the familiar nightmare came, he was finally able to draw his knife and plunge it into the man's throat before he was able to get a hold of him. The rest of the men fled as he menaced them, not wanting to tangle with him at all now.

He still bolted awake in a cold sweat but this time it was different. He couldn't have fought them off for real, but at least now he knew he could banish them from his sleep and maybe finally be able to rest.

The next day, he got up early and headed out alone again. He had found out by roundabout conversation with Dr. S that it was a panic attack he had suffered last time he'd been out alone. Knowing what it was, that it was all mental, made him feel like a pussy. But just like with the dreams, he knew now he'd be able fight it off .

He even felt a little bit of pride that once again he'd managed to get through some fucked up shit without needing anyone's help, just like all the times before.

***************************************************************

Rick was surprised to be able to catch up to Daryl as quickly as he had. He'd found out that he'd left the gates on foot alone and headed out right away but Daryl had at least a half hour on him . After what Michonne had told him, he wasn't about to let him be out on his own like this.

"Daryl," he called out as soon as he saw his back at a distance. He didn't want to come up on him unexpectedly.

He saw Daryl's shoulders twitch violently at the sound of his voice, watched him spin around to glare at him. He wasn't expecting to deal with him angry but he started preparing for it as he approached.

"Didn't ask for no company," he said huffily.

"Well, you got some anyway," Rick said. Daryl didn't say anything else, just started walking again. He counted that as a success so far and started alongside him. "We all agreed none of us should go out alone anymore, remember ? "

"Why didn't you send Michonne after me again ? Ain't you got farm chores to do ?"

Rick sighed at his sneering tone. He wondered how he knew about Michonne. She wouldn't have told him he had sent her. Daryl was too damn perceptive about some things and not at all about others, he thought. But he wasn't going to deny it.

"She told me what happened," he said.

"Got ambushed by a couple of walkers, wasn't no big deal," Daryl answered defensively. "Didn't really need her help. "

"She said they were right up on you before you even noticed them. "

"So ? Could happen to anyone," Daryl muttered.

"Not to you," Rick said softly.

He stopped and rounded on Rick angrily. "You don't think I can take care of myself now ? "

"I didn't say that."

"Why you out here then ?"

"Because I'm worried about you, Daryl. Panic attacks can be dangerous out here, if you're-"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with me, Rick !" He burst out angrily. "I had one bad day and y'all gotta make a thing about it. Just leave me be !" He started heading off into the woods. Rick followed after him.

After a bit, Daryl stopped again and when he turned to face him, Rick knew something bad was coming.

"You ever think maybe I just don't want to be around you no more ? " he growled, his eyes full of suppressed rage and pain. " Hell, maybe I don't want to be around here at all anymore. I don't need _none_ a y'all, not before , not now either. "

"Daryl, listen -"

"So you can forget that offer of yours, that Council. Cause I don't even know if I'm gonna be stayin'. "

"Daryl-" he actually reached a hand out this time, wanting to touch him, to reassure him. He knew he was just lashing out because he felt demeaned. But Daryl just stepped further away.

"Fine, " he muttered defeatedly. "Don't need you to waste your time babysittin' me." To Rick's relief he changed direction abruptly, turning to head back towards the prison.

Rick let him put distance between them as they headed back. Daryl's words had hurt him, more than he could possibly know, but for right now, he was just relieved to have gotten him to go home.

*****************************************

Daryl got back to his cell in a rage. Rick had sent Michonne to watch him, like he was a kid, or some newbie who couldn't be trusted out alone. That offer to sit on the Council had been bullshit. Rick didn't trust his judgement anymore, he was just doing it out of pity, to make him think he still had faith in him when he didn't. 

The Council already had other members, it's not like he was really needed. Rick was just doing what he would do for anyone he felt bad for, or responsible for.

The words he had flung at Rick echoed in his head. He'd told him he didn't want to be around him anymore.

Nothing could have been more untrue and he'd sickened himself even as he'd said it out loud. But he knew Rick probably felt that way about _him_ and he was starting to realize that the more he kept his distance, the easier it would get for him to accept it.

He flung himself down on his mattress, the rage he'd felt collapsing into depression. After a few seconds, he reached under his bunk for a bottle of whiskey. He'd been stocking up secretly on runs ever since that first night back. He got up and yanked the curtain fully across the metal-barred door.

Just when he'd thought he might have been ready to move forward, Rick had gone and reminded him how _un_ -ready he actually was. _Fuck him_. He lay back in his bunk and unscrewed the cap.

****************************************************************

Rick allowed himself to stay occupied with his children, with the duties around the prison. He tried not to think about the widening gulf between him and Daryl, which only seemed to get worse each day he let him keep his distance. But he figured he was a reminder to Daryl now, of all that had happened. Forcing interaction that made him uncomfortable wouldn't be fair.

He paid attention to his coming and going though, and was only partially grateful that Daryl hadn't tested him by going out by himself again. An excuse to go after him alone would actually be welcome. But Daryl only left the prison on runs with other people now.

One morning he was out early, to check on the crops. He had his shirt off again, to wash up at the large barrel of rainwater. It was too damn hot, even this close to dawn. When he straightened up, he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye and, slightly alarmed because no one was ever out here this early, quickly turned to check it out.

The look he caught on Daryl's face this time was different than any he'd ever seen and in that instant, he knew he'd been right, that it hadn't just been himself who'd been hiding it. His expression was so filled with longing and regret that Rick was speechless.

He didn't get a chance to ask him why he was out here this early, or if he had anything on his mind, because Daryl, observant as always, seemed to realize himself that something different had just happened. That Rick had _noticed_. He recovered immediately, nodding a quick greeting the way he always did, before abruptly leaving the yard.

When he went to look for Daryl later after doing his chores with Carl, Zach told him he had left on his bike alone, over an hour before.

As the daylight waned Rick started cursing himself for not going out after him. When night came and he hadn't returned he wound up alone by the gates, looking out at the dark road, his mind empty save for the wish to see that one headlight shining back at him in the dark, hear that familiar rumble that would signal another day he'd gotten to have Daryl back safe.

He was furious at himself for not confronting Daryl before, confessing his own feelings, letting him know maybe it could be ok again. But he had been paralyzed with doubt. He didn't know if that sort of confession would make it better or worse, or if he had possibly misread Daryl to begin with. _That_ kind of mistake might be unforgivable, he thought.

It took until hours past dark but Daryl came home. Rick had been so relieved he'd wanted to throw his arms around him but that had never been appropriate with him, even before.

Instead he thanked him for the diapers and formula he'd brought back from God knows where, and didn't remind him that there was a bigger run planned in the next couple of days that would've been safer. He knew Daryl had gone out to clear his head but wouldn't have felt right coming back empty handed.

Carol came to Rick the next day. She wanted to know what was wrong, why was Daryl so surly with everybody lately, why was he not eating , didn't Rick see how thin he was getting ?

She told him how Zach had snuck up on him, kidding around, to show him how stealthy he'd gotten. The kid seemed to think Daryl had super-senses. He'd tapped Daryl on the back with a carton of cigarettes he'd snagged for him and Daryl had reacted violently, throwing him up against a wall and pinning him by the throat until he suddenly seemed to snap out of it.

She noticed just as he had that Daryl was drinking at night, and it bothered her for more than just how unsafe that made him should an emergency arise.

He nodded gravely, and told her he'd talk to him. He was thankful to finally have an excuse that he could pass off as legitimate to Daryl.

He waited until late that night, when mostly everyone was asleep.

The curtain Daryl used for privacy was fully covering the cell door. Rick tapped on the bars lightly.

"You awake?" he called softly.

"Nah," Daryl answered.

Rick smiled a little at that, slid the door open and stepped in.

Daryl was sitting on the bottom bunk, his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, a bottle of Southern Comfort uncapped at his side. It was about a third of the way down. Rick hoped it hadn't been a full bottle at the start of the night. He looked up at Rick, bleary eyed, from the whiskey or just exhaustion he couldn't tell.

"Carol wanted me to talk to you," Rick said, sitting on the far end of the bunk.

Daryl took a long pull of the bottle. " 'Bout what?"

"She says you're not eating. That you're drinking nearly every night ," he said, nodding his head towards the bottle of whiskey.

Daryl rolled his eyes at that. "Already told her that ain't her concern."

"It is. She's worried about you. " He studied Daryl as he sat there. His shoulders were hunched in, his eyes downcast. " _I'm_ worried about you. "

" Don't worry, I ain't been drunk on watch or nothin', " Daryl scoffed.

"That's not what I meant," Rick said wearily.

" M'fine," he muttered. " Carol knows where to find me. " He got up off the bunk abruptly, walking to the corner of the room, and then looking back at Rick. " You didn't have to come here for her, " he said irritably. His speech was slurred, his voice huskier than normal.

"Daryl-"

" Ain't your problem, " he snapped. And then out of the blue, "You think I don't know you don't want to be around me no more?" It came out accusing and hurt and was nothing that would've come out of his mouth had he been sober.

Rick was so surprised that he stared back, dumbfounded. " _What_?" he asked stupidly, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard right.

Daryl shook his head , looking disgusted. With himself, Rick realized. "Man, just go," he muttered, sounding defeated. " I'm just drunk."

"Yeah, you must be. To say something as dumb as that," Rick said gently. He couldn't stand to see Daryl this way, he'd never seen him look so broken.

He watched him lean heavily against the wall, putting his forehead in his hands and finally realized that Daryl was never going to be the one who'd start putting this back together.

Daryl had a lifetime of being alone to fall back on. Painful as that must have been, it was practically his _normal_. Maybe giving Daryl so much space was actually the wrong way to have gone about it.

If he just gave in and left every time Daryl pushed him away, nothing would change. Those men would have won.

He stood up, and Daryl stepped aside, to let him walk out.

But Rick didn't leave. Instead he faced Daryl, came to stand right in front of him.

He made a vow to himself that he was going to say what needed to be said, regardless of how exposed it wound up leaving him. It was the least he could do.

"I wanna talk to you about what happened," he started off quietly.

"Told you not to bring that up," Daryl practically growled, shooting him a warning look.

"No. Not that. " Rick took a deep breath, feeling a little like he was about to jump off a cliff. "That day by the fences , when we were fixing that support-"

" _Stop_ , " Daryl blurted preemptively, starting to pace restlessly in the small space the cell allowed.

Ok, Rick thought, he wouldn't go there. That was too obscene, demeaning. "Yesterday then... when you were out by the field and I saw you and you-"

" _Stop_ ," Daryl broke in again, almost pleadingly. But Rick couldn't , he needed this out, all of it, so Daryl didn't have to feel like this was another burden he had to bear alone.

"I knew you were watching me, and when I saw the way you were looking at me-"

Daryl dropped back down onto the bunk, his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands, letting go a stream of words obviously intended to keep Rick from further humiliating him.

"Shut _up_ , man, " he groaned. " Whatever you think, it _wasn't_ , Rick, I would _never_ look at you like that, man, I' m just...I'm fucked up , alright ? Can you just forget it ?"

This wasn't going right, he thought, I'm making it worse. He could see how painful this was for Daryl, expecting rejection. Whether he thought it was because of the attack or because he had let Rick see what he really felt didn't matter. Damn his nerves for making him start with the wrong words !

"I feel the same way," Rick said quickly, before he had to watch Daryl suffering any further.

Then they both fell silent, neither moving a muscle.

Finally Daryl uncovered his eyes and slowly met his gaze. His expression was such a mix of fear and hope at the same time that it almost hurt Rick knowing he had so much power in his hands. 

Rick started talking again, once he steadied himself. "If I'm wrong about you, you'll let me know, but if I'm right...you'll just shut up and let me keep on talking. Deal ?" He wanted to make it as easy as possible for Daryl, let him know he didn't even need to respond if he didn't want to.

Daryl nodded slightly, his expression deadly serious. He stayed perfectly still, waiting.

"What happened, that thing that we won't talk about," Rick began, forcing himself to ignore the way Daryl tensed and his face hardened. " It didn't change that. What I felt about you before, how we were, none of that is different. I wanted you then -never had the balls to say it, but I did- and I want you now. And if I'm wrong, and that's not how you feel, then fine, this conversation never happened, and we don't ever have to go there again."

He stopped, waiting for Daryl to absorb that, hoping with all he had that he hadn't driven the final wedge into their friendship.

He could hardly believe he'd just confessed that to Daryl. He had never thought he would. All his doubts started nagging at him as Daryl wasn't responding, just sitting there chewing on his thumbnail, staring at the floor.

"You done?" Daryl muttered quietly, after a few seconds of uneasy silence.

"I am," Rick answered, his heart beating way too rapidly now.

"You wasn't wrong," Daryl mumbled without looking up.

Relief flooded through Rick in a wave that made him want to sag against the wall, it was so strong. He couldn't even think of a response. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"So what's that mean ?" Daryl asked him then.

It was such a simple question, and his voice sounded as innocent as a kid's, and Rick had no idea how to answer him. That you can come to me whenever you need ? That I'll always want you around, even when your moods are shit and it gets on my nerves ? That I'll always have your back? Those things were all already true and he didn't think that was at all what Daryl was trying to ask him.

" I think it means you better hand me that bottle, " Rick answered finally, smiling as Daryl instantly held it out to him. He took it from Daryl's outstretched hand and took a long swig.

He sat back down next to Daryl and took another.

They passed the bottle back and forth, easing into conversation no more serious than what needed to be done around the prison tomorrow. They didn't have to go any further than that for now, Rick thought. They sat a little closer than they ever had though, and when their legs bumped together, Daryl didn't immediately pull away.

By the time they'd drained the bottle, Daryl wound up almost leaning against Rick as they sat side by side. He caught himself and straightened but Rick already felt himself starting to get aroused.

Drunk himself, Rick was overcome with the urge to touch him. He was still rational enough to know not to go too far this soon but he figured a back rub could be a neutral enough place to start. Rick placed his hands on his shoulders and shifted up on the bed so he was a little behind Daryl. He felt Daryl tense up but he started to knead strong fingers into his flesh and to his relief, he didn't shrug him off.

Instead he seemed to relax, dropping his head forwards and letting his body lean back slightly, pushing into Rick's touch. Encouraged, Rick let his hands roam up under his thin t-shirt, relishing the feel of all that bare skin under his palms.

He felt Daryl go stiff again as he exposed his back but he was so entranced with the idea that he was finally running his hands over Daryl's body that it barely registered. He leaned in closer, brought his face to the back of his neck, breathing him in. Resisted the urge to bite and kiss where his neck met his shoulder.

A small shiver ran through Daryl at the close contact but still he wasn't pulling away. Without thinking, Rick worked the shirt all the way up his back and moved to pull it over his head. At that, Daryl sat up quickly and shifted away.

Rick drew back as well. "Shit, Daryl, I'm sorry. " What the fuck was he thinking ? The whiskey was making him stupid, he should've known not to force that kind of contact yet. He didn't even know what he was doing. He had no idea how to be with a man, _especially_ one who'd been through something awful. 

He should leave. He went to stand up, his legs a little wobbly.

"Wait." Daryl's voice was gravelly. He was sitting on the edge of the cot, not looking up. "Don't...don't gotta leave," he mumbled, just loud enough that Rick heard.

So he sat back down, watching Daryl fidget with his hands as he sat there, looking like he was trying to think of something to say or do. Suddenly Daryl moved towards him unexpectedly, and crashed their mouths together in a messy, rough kiss that bruised Rick's lips with the force of it. 

He was so shocked he almost laughed except that once he realized what had happened, he was grabbing the front of Daryl's shirt to make sure he didn't pull away before he got to really enjoy it.

After a second their tongues were tangling together and Rick was gripping the back of Daryl's head and winding his other arm around his back. Daryl pushed up against him and when their lips finally separated he started sliding off the cot and down onto the floor.

He was kneeling in front of Rick, fumbling at the front of his jeans. The feel of Daryl's hands clumsily brushing over his cock as he worked to undo the button sent a jolt of sharp, tingling pleasure through his groin.

He sat there dazed as Daryl worked his zipper down and slid his hand around his member, making him gasp. He didn't think just a hand on his cock could feel that good at his age. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to say "That can wait. " He thought about slipping himself free, helping Daryl up to the bunk, telling him it's better they sober up before they do anything, but then he felt Daryl's lips hesitantly brush the head of his cock and he lost the will to do any of those things.

He watched, mesmerized, as Daryl hesitantly took the head into his mouth and then started slowly taking in his whole length. Once he was sheathed in that warmth, Rick let out a little moan before he remembered to be quiet.

Daryl didn't even seem to notice, he seemed to be trying to figure out how far he could take him in without choking. It was maddeningly slow and the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

But his brain was starting to cut through the haze of drunken arousal as he realized this was _not_ the right way for this to happen. 

In the back of his mind was the memory of something he'd read about how some rape victims acted out sexually when it wasn't really about that at all. He didn't know why Daryl had moved so fast, but the last thing Rick wanted to do was take advantage of him being drunk, especially under the circumstances.

He shifted backwards, gently dislodging Daryl's mouth with a hand on the side of his face. "Hey," he whispered down at him, laughing slightly, attempting to be light-hearted about it. " I haven't even bought you dinner yet."

Daryl looked up at him, his expression growing angry and Rick realized his mistake right away. Daryl took it the wrong way. Of course he would. He should've known.

After all Daryl had been through he had offered himself to Rick and been turned down. To him, it just looked like rejection, or worse, what was the truth -that he was trying to be _careful_ with him. And he knew Daryl well enough to know how quickly his moods could shift when he drank.

Daryl was struggling unsteadily to his feet, his eyes dark with hurt. "Knew it was all bullshit," he spat down at Rick, and stormed out of his own cell, flinging the door wide with a bang.

Now it was Rick that felt an anger boiling up in his chest, at himself for letting this sour so quickly, at Daryl for always making it harder for himself than it had to be.

After a few seconds he was rushing after him, before he lost the sound of his heavy footsteps and would have to take more time to hunt him down.

He was headed for the generator room and Rick got there only seconds after Daryl.

Daryl spun to face him, rage practically radiating from his every muscle. "You best back the fuck off, " Daryl snarled at him menacingly.

Had he been sober Rick might have done just that. Not out of fear but sympathy, understanding. But where had that gotten them anyway ?

"I'm not letting you do this," Rick shot right back, getting in Daryl's face, nearly backing him against the wall. " You think you can just push me away and I'll just give up like everybody else ? "

"You did once," Daryl snapped back at him. "Ain't like you ever tried to stop me leavin'."

Jesus, when he left with Merle, Rick thought. Daryl had no idea how much that had cost his sanity, which had already been pretty shaky at the time.

"Did you hear _nothing_ I said to you back there ?" Rick grit out.

"You think you gotta worry about me ? " Daryl snapped.

"Daryl-" he started, reaching a hand out to his shoulder, which Daryl shrugged off violently. 

"Words ain't shit, Rick," Daryl yelled, his voice breaking a little now. "None a your words ever did _nothin'_!"

That could've meant so many things Rick didn't even know what to think. But it touched a nerve all the same.

"Daryl-" Rick tried again, using a sterner tone, wanting to stop this from escalating into pointless venting, but it was too late.

"Fuckin' comin' down here like I need you to make me feel better, " he was yelling. " You don't even know what you want. You come up to me talkin' all that shit and then I try to do something and all of a sudden it ain't _good_ enough ? " He was pacing wildly, weaving unsteadily back and forth in front of Rick.

Rick was so taken aback by the tirade that he just stood there. He knew Daryl was drunker than he was himself, hurt and he guessed embarrassed and possibly even sexually frustrated.

But then Daryl was in his face, shoving him. "Whatta you want, Rick ? Huh ? You just tryin' to keep me around so I keep takin' care of all your shit around here while you go an' play farmer with your kid ? "

The rough treatment and nasty words set Rick's temper off despite his understanding and he grabbed Daryl by the front of his shirt and pushed him against the wall.

Daryl went to wrench his hands off him, but he held fast. "You think I _wanted_ you to stop back there ?" he growled at Daryl, shaking him slightly.

"Why'd you push me off , then ? " Daryl challenged, setting his jaw belligerently.

Rick hesitated, unable to think of a response that wouldn't make things worse. He let go of his shirt and fell back a step. Daryl looked so raw, his eyes red and full of hurt, glaring at him darkly, his jaw clenched tight. 

This couldn't end well the way it was going. Daryl was too drunk to be rational.

And apparently he was more infuriated by Rick's silence. "I ain't some bitch that don't know what I want ! " he yelled suddenly. " What, a blow job wasn't enough for you ? You wanna fuck me instead ? What 're you waitin' for ? You either want me or you _don't_ . "

Daryl's voice broke on the last part and the desperate need in that finally broke through the last of Rick's doubts. 

He started dragging him roughly to one of the counters. Daryl stumbled drunkenly along with him, not resisting when Rick backed him up against the edge and started to kiss him again.

Daryl's tongue sought his, a grateful- sounding moan escaping as Rick pressed his whole body fully against him and wound a hand around the back of his neck.

Rick might have thought this should have gone more slowly but once he felt Daryl stiffen against his own erection, he knew it was too late.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he heard himself say, the hoarseness in his own voice surprising him.

"Then _do_ it, Rick," Daryl urged him in a small whisper, his head falling to the side of Rick's so his face was hidden.

For a second, Rick froze again. But then a voice in his head spoke to him clearly. _Stop thinking. He's telling you what he wants. Don't fuck this up again._

Rick turned him around and pulled his jeans down around his thighs, his boxers coming down with them. He took himself out and pressed himself against Daryl's ass, leaning him over the surface. The feel of Daryl's naked flesh against his cock made him shiver. 

He felt the urge to seek reassurance, to ask Daryl if this was still ok, but he stopped himself. Daryl had moved with him, arched back against him as they folded over together. He certainly didn't seem unsure.

Rick's heart actually started to pound as it sunk in that he had Daryl bent over a metal counter and had no idea what to do. He couldn't just ram himself in. He remembered he had a little tube of vaseline lip balm in one of his pockets. He guessed that should work.

He lifted off of Daryl to fumble around for it in his pocket. He squeezed a little onto his first two fingers, deciding he needed to figure this out a little beforehands.

The hesitation was starting to make Daryl anxious too. "You gonna do this or what ? " he huffed impatiently.

It was unexpectedly amusing, the tone so similar to the one Daryl used so many other times when Rick had irritated him, by being too talky, or concerned. At the same time, it made it all the more arousing, knowing what Daryl was impatient for was _him_.

Eager or not, he still jumped a bit as Rick tried entering with just a finger.

"Shh, just hold still, " Rick murmured, trying it out. It was so tight and warm, much more so than he expected. 

He worked his middle finger in gently until it was all the way in, and found the small nub he was looking for, glad he'd looked some of this stuff up in the prison library as well. 

He rubbed at it gently with the pad of his finger and Daryl twitched slightly. "Fuck..." he heard him mumble dazedly.

"Shit, did that hurt ?" Rick asked quickly.

"...nah," Daryl breathed, dropping his forehead to the counter, his hips starting to sway slightly with the movement of Rick's finger inside him. 

Rick felt Daryl's opening relax as he kept the little motion up. He reached his other hand around to touch Daryl's cock for the first time. The warmth tingled against his palm. Daryl gasped at the contact, clenching around Rick's finger. Rick tightened his grip and Daryl thrust into it, exhaling harshly. He pushed himself back against Rick's erection.

"Do it," he heard Daryl whisper against the counter.

It sounded just like Daryl's voice from his fantasies, rough and desperate, and as much as it made him want to impale him right then and there, he didn't.

"Just hold on," Rick said gently. He slid another finger in, feeling Daryl stretch open a little more, slowing down to enjoy the sight of him starting to writhe against his fingers, the feel of his engorged member heavy in his hand.

Rick felt the blood rush to his head. He had thought about this for so long and now he was so close he was almost afraid he wouldn't be able to hold back long enough, even as drunk as he was.

The little whining noise Daryl made in the back of his throat as he removed his fingers sent another jolt of heat through his groin. He coated his dick with what was left of the little tube of vaseline.

He took a calming breath and pushed the tip inside as gently as he could. He flashed back for a split second on that horror. He couldn't help it, it was always in the back of his mind and here he was about to do the same thing and he was hoping with all he had that he wouldn't go soft and that Daryl wasn't remembering it too.

Instinctively he leaned over Daryl again and slid an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.

Daryl rocked his hips back, forcing Rick in a little more. "C' _mon_ ," he urged, his tone almost pleading.

That knocked all the hesitation out of Rick. Daryl needed him now, they had both wanted this for too long. This moment was _theirs_ , nothing else belonged here.

He thought of leaning up to grip Daryl's hips but he didn't want to move up off his back. The warmth, the closeness felt too good. So he thrust his hips forward in one slow, steady movement and he felt Daryl relax and let him all the way in. He was silent until Rick was buried hilt-deep inside, then he clenched around his cock and moaned softly.

Rick had wanted to hear that sound so bad he groaned needily and took Daryl in his hand again, wanting to feel all of him at once, inside and out.

Plastered together like this he finally felt like Daryl _belonged_ to him. "...so perfect, so fucking good... " he mumbled in his ear, overcome with affection as strong as his arousal, as he felt himself completely enveloped in the other man's flesh.

Daryl answered by rolling his hips back to meet Rick's thrusts as he braced himself against the counter.

Each stroke seemed to be hitting Daryl just right so Rick kept the angle as steady as he could until Daryl was pumping erratically into his fist , his breath coming in stuttering gasps, and Rick forgot all about having to hold back.

They were rutting against eachother, almost frantically.

"Fuck, Rick, I'm gonna- "

Rick started over the cliff as soon as he heard the whimper in Daryl's voice. He practically collapsed over him as he started to come, biting down on Daryl's shoulder without thinking as he felt the younger man's seed start to spill out over his fingers and onto the concrete floor beneath them.

They were spent. Daryl didn't move for seconds after, letting Rick rest over his back. He didn't seem to mind Rick's face nuzzled into the back of his neck. It felt so good Rick had to will himself to move. They'd made a mess on the floor, and Rick was painfully aware that they hadn't even locked themselves in here. If anything could ruin this, it would definitely be getting caught.

He gently dislodged himself, and released Daryl's softening member, wiping the come off his hand on the inside of his own shirt, a little amused at how this setting couldn't be more unromantic. But he couldn't imagine feeling any better than he did right now.

Daryl was straightening up and pulling up his jeans, not bothering to clean up at all first. Next time they'd be prepared, Rick was thinking. An empty cell with a mattress, where they could come down together and relax. Not either of their own cells, but somewhere private in one of the unused areas.

He noticed Daryl hadn't turned around yet, hadn't said a word. He was gripping the edge of the counter, head down, just leaning against it like he was trying to steady himself. It occurred to Rick that Daryl might be freaking out again now that they were no longer in the throes of arousal. He was feeling a little strange himself. What would they do now? How were they supposed to act?

He had fought the urge to embrace him so many times before but he gave in to it now, wrapping his arms around Daryl's chest and resting his head against the back of his neck. He didn't expect to feel the trembling in the younger man's back and arms as he held onto him. Or to feel him lean back against him after a couple of seconds, his body relaxing into the embrace with a slow, heavy exhale of breath.

Maybe they'd gone too far too soon but it sure didn't feel that way. And judging by how long Daryl tolerated them staying like that, he wasn't regretting it either. Or maybe the alcohol was catching up to both of them fast, Rick thought. 

He found himself getting drowsy, just feeling Daryl breathing quietly against him.

Daryl finally shrugged him off, but gently, crouching to wipe up the floor with a bandana he had on him. He crumpled it together in his hand and stuffed it back in his pocket as he stood, not wanting to leave evidence behind.

"Fuckin' nasty, " he muttered, smirking a little.

"Next time we'll be more prepared, " Rick said, grinning. "Maybe use a bed like civilized people."

"Wasn't complainin'," Daryl mumbled, ducking his head almost shyly.

"Good. I'd hate to think I screwed it up that fast," Rick said lightly.

This was weird, he thought. He was tempted to move in and kiss Daryl, or hug him again. But he wasn't really sure if Daryl would be ok with him just taking liberties like that.

Daryl meanwhile was looking awkward as hell, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Let's get some air," Rick suggested. "Check the fences before we turn in."

Daryl nodded quickly, looking relieved.

They were both more than a little unsteady still, from the alcohol and the late hour, but Rick wasn't ready to be done with Daryl for the night yet. He figured it would take a while before the novelty of finally _having_ him wore off.

They stopped at Daryl's cell so he could grab his crossbow, but once they got there, Rick saw just how exhausted Daryl actually was, nearly toppling over as he stooped to pick up the weapon.

Rick moved in and grabbed an arm to right him. "I'm not sure I'm any steadier right now," he said gently. "Maybe it's better we leave it to the night crew."

"You might be right," Daryl said, laughing slightly as he slumped heavily onto the bottom bunk instead of straightening up. He pulled his legs up and stretched them out in front of him.

Rick joined him on the bed, sitting next to his feet. This was exactly where they started out this night, he was thinking. But they couldn't have been in a more different place right now.

He leaned his head into his hands. The after-effects of the alcohol were making him a little queasy. "Man, I'm gonna feel it in the morning," he said.

"Pfft," Daryl huffed. "Lightweight."

"Yeah, you're tellin' _me_ ," Rick admitted ruefully. He glanced up and saw Daryl looking at him questioningly, as if he was puzzled that he was still there.

"Ok if I sit here awhile? " Rick asked. He was still wondering if this had all been too much for Daryl, and if he was overstaying his welcome right now.

But Daryl nodded quickly, a little too enthusiastically for his own pride apparently because he shrugged right after and muttered "It's a free country, " before sprawling on his back and covering his face with an arm.

Rick was glad Daryl couldn't see the affectionate grin that brought to his face. And the relief. "You want me to bring you some water or something ?" he offered.

"M'fine," Daryl mumbled under his arm. Then, a little hesitantly, his face still hidden- " ...you wanna rub my back again, you can..."

Rick scooted up higher on the bed eagerly, patting Daryl's side to get him to roll over. He did, folding his arms and resting his head on them. Rick started to massage his back, finding Daryl already completely relaxed under his hands.

"Feels good," he heard Daryl murmur sleepily as he continued to knead his shoulders.

Rick found himself overcome with emotion, as it sank in that this was real, what they started. It wasn't a small thing that Daryl had asked for this, had pushed for it. Daryl, who for as long as he'd known him, had barely let anyone know a thing about him other then what slipped out inadvertently. He had never met another person as guarded and distrusting, yet he could feel his breathing deepen and slow as he slowly worked his hands over his back. 

With a startling clarity, Rick realized that what he'd been feeling for Daryl all this time was love. And that Daryl, however he would probably try to hide it in the future, felt something as close to it as he could.

He wasn't foolish enough to think that there wouldn't be rough patches, that Daryl would just be ok, like nothing had happened. But he'd learned from losing Lori that you don't have all the time in the world to wait for things to be perfect. They never would be.

Sometimes the past just needs to be banished with an act of will so you can hold onto what you _do_ have without screwing it up, he thought. He just hoped Daryl would be able to get there with him.

Thinking on that, he felt a strange peace, something he hadn't felt since even before his coma.

He would have loved to lie down next to him instead of having to stumble back to his own cell and sleep alone. But one thing he knew about the both of them was that they wouldn't want this made public. At least not yet.

So for now, he contented himself with sitting by Daryl's side, lightening his touch as he felt Daryl getting closer to sleep, until he was just rubbing small gentle circles between his shoulder blades and Daryl was snoring softly.

**************************************************************

Daryl woke to the sounds of the prison already fully awake and buzzing with activity. He was still on his belly.

He had drooled onto his pillow. His mouth felt full of cotton now and there was a dull throbbing behind his eyes.

Great, he thought, overslept _and_ hungover.

Then his mind started flashing on the night before and it took him a couple of seconds to remember that all that had actually happened. Holy shit. 

The first things he thought of were humiliating. He'd moved on Rick like some desperate faggot. Trying to suck Rick's cock ? What the hell was wrong with him ? 

He remembered being so hell bent on proving to Rick that he hadn't made a mistake, that he wasn't messed up, that he wanted him more than anything, that he'd just acted without thinking, doing what he figured any man would want once he was all riled up.

Then Rick had tried to do the classy thing, and he had blown up at him like a crazy person.

But then it had gone different. He started to calm down, remembering the rest. God it had felt so good, better than he could have imagined. Even just falling asleep like that, with those warm, heavy hands on his back...

He rolled onto his side, the blanket tangling around his legs, a blanket he didn't remember having on the bed when he fell asleep. He noticed a full water bottle on the cardboard box he used as a night table. He grabbed it and guzzled, parched from the alcohol. 

The evidence that Rick had stayed with him after he'd fallen asleep, taken care of him like that, was embarrassing. It was more embarrassing how good it made him feel.

"You up yet ?" he heard Rick call through the curtain before walking in anyway. Daryl jumped, wiping the dried saliva off his face and running a hand quickly through his messy hair. And immediately felt like an idiot for doing it.

Rick smiled slightly, seeing him awake and sitting up.

It was a weird smile, Daryl noted, not one Rick had ever used on him before, and it made him even more self-conscious all of a sudden. He swung his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge and looking for his shoes. 

Apparently Rick had removed those for him last night, too.

"What's up ?" he asked Rick, only half-looking at him.

Rick picked up the shoes from the foot of the bed and handed them to Daryl, then sat next to him. Daryl felt his heartbeat pick up, feeling the warmth from Rick's body so close.

"Now that we've uh...cleared the air..." Rick started awkwardly. "I wanted to ask you if you'd reconsider taking that seat on the council."

Daryl didn't know what surprised him more, that Rick was acting like nothing was different even after he'd fucked his brains out or that he still even wanted him on that council after he'd been such a fuck-up lately.

He busied himself putting on his shoes so he wouldn't have to make eye contact. "Yeah...if you still want me to..."

"I do," Rick said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. Then he surprised Daryl again by putting a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, and letting it rest there.

He cleared his throat a little before continuing. "You know, you were pretty drunk last night...are you still ok with this ?"

It was the obvious concern in his voice, the gentle but firm hold on his leg, that made Daryl have to swallow around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

"Better than ok," he muttered, hating how choked up that wound up coming out.

But it made Rick sigh with obvious relief. "Good," he breathed, squeezing Daryl's knee in a gesture that felt so comforting and arousing at the same time it made his face get hot. Then he quickly released him, and went to stand.

"C'mon, we're actually having a meeting in a bit. They'll be real glad to hear you're finally in."

Daryl nodded, grabbed for a fresh t-shirt and jeans, and a towel and stood up himself. "uhh...gotta go get a shower first, I think," he murmured, embarrassed at the state he'd actually fallen asleep in, with Rick's seed all sticky in him, his own mess still stuffed in a bandana in his pocket.

"I'd offer to join you but I don't think either of us are ready for that kind of publicity," Rick chuckled. "Maybe after hours," he added a second later, his tone huskier and a little playful, not what Daryl was used to hearing from Rick at all.

It made him start stiffening in his jeans. "No maybe about it, " he quipped back, then dropped his eyes almost immediately, feeling a little silly.

Rick laughed, sounding surprised. He shook his head, rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, it's a date then," he said.

"The shower room ? You serious ?"

Rick smiled and rested his hands on Daryl's shoulders. That gesture didn't feel platonic at all now. He lowered his voice pointedly and squeezed his shoulders, catching him off guard with the look in his eyes, so openly affectionate that Daryl had to look away. "What I meant was, I'll see you later. Alone."

He left Daryl standing there, his mood surprisingly light.

As he made his way to the washroom alone he realized that for the first time since -well, he couldn't even remember when- he was actually looking forward to something.

He saw Carol approaching.

She smiled widely as she got closer. "You look like you finally got some rest, " she said happily. "I hope you're not mad I sent Rick to talk to you, " she added apologetically.

"Ain't mad, " he shrugged. Hell, he thought, he should be thanking her.

"So are we going to see you on this council we're setting up ?" she asked, prodding gently in that way of hers.

He nodded. "I'll be there."

She smiled, satisfied. " I knew Rick would be able to talk some sense into you."

He half-smiled back, feeling she needed to see confirmation that he was really ok, and continued on. He felt a pang of guilt, hoping he wasn't responsible for putting her through the same kind of torment he'd felt all those long months before Rick finally set things straight. But for right now, he was way too happy to let that really bring him down.

He passed Zach and Beth, and nodded hello back to them easily. Made a mental note to not be such a dick to the kid next time they worked together. Told Glenn and Herschel he'd see them at the meeting later. It felt good to find that they looked pleased to hear it.

A few others nodded friendly greetings at him as they crossed paths, a couple even calling him by name. He suddenly felt like an asshole for all the times he'd never even bothered to nod back or answer them. 

For some reason, he thought back to the time when he'd come back here with Merle, when he'd realized for the first time that he couldn't leave Rick's side no matter what the cost. Carol had told him this was his home, and he had scoffed at her, made a cynical joke of it. 

But right now, when his mind was for once free of everything except how good a shower was gonna feel, and how much this day was gonna drag before he and Rick could get together again tonight , he thought he could almost feel it.


End file.
